


Pente

by SeparationBoundary



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, F/M, Feitan - Freeform, Gen'ei Ryodan, Heist, Robbery, Vaginal Sex, almost torture, chrollo, homophobic slur (just the one), phantom troupe, phinks - Freeform, shalnark - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-18
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-20 21:25:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13726281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeparationBoundary/pseuds/SeparationBoundary
Summary: What happens when some of the Ryodan - and some of a sometimes friendly, sometimes rival, gang - all get trapped in a mob boss’s mansion?  Who is against whom?  Who gets away with the prize?  And who is up to other things?





	1. Love?  Hate?

**Author's Note:**

> Some amazing fan art was drawn for this fic by the wonderful @ranshiinsitha ! Find that bit of gorgeousness [HERE](https://sta.sh/0jexqf43dpc). (Sorry I never posted this before. :( I didn't know how!)

Ch. 1 - Love, Hate?

Chrollo, Phinks, Feitan, and Shalnark were stood in an empty parking lot on the north side of York New.  It was located in an abandoned industrial district; the surrounding tall, derelict buildings carving long shadows out of the setting late-summer sun.  Despite all the steel and glass and tarmac, a cicada sang it’s lazy, buzzing song in a junky field somewhere nearby.

Their latest job was revenge: a mob boss whose gang had stolen some coins out from under the Troupe.  The coins in question were in the mob boss’s private home and Danchou had called in a favour from a sometimes rival, sometimes partner gang called The Pente, whose speciality was burglary.  

It was an uneasy friendship at best.

The spiders stood watching warily as Chrollo and the boss of the Pente, Simon; a lean, scarecrow-ish, dark-haired older man in a rusty black suit, spoke quietly.

Feitan swept his gaze scowlingly over the burglars.  He was irritated.  He despised working with the Pente. Loathed it.  He and one of the women in the group had a love / hate relationship.  That is; they loved to hate each other.  Three prior jobs together and Feitan was never sure if he wanted to kill her or fuck her.

Ok, well, he was less unsure about that last one.  

Add to this that Simon was more of a father figure than a boss to the young gang. Like the Ryodan, The Pente members all came from desperate backgrounds. Simon had hand picked them, plucking them off the streets and out of poverty and polished them into admirable thieves.

There were only five members of The Pente - thus the name - and two of them were female.  Feitan’s nemesis was fairly new, replacing a member who had gotten himself arrested, then killed in prison a year back.  She was interesting in a rough-and-ready, I-could-kick-your-ass kinda way.  She was tall, curvy, and strong, with ruddy brown hair usually pulled into a low ponytail. She had a tattoo on the left side of her neck of a fox, running flat out, and that’s what they called her; “Fox” or “The Fox”.  No one knew her real name.

She drove Feitan insane.  He spent the day wanting to throttle her and the night masturbating thinking about her.

And now Simon was watching him watching her. Feitan jerked his gaze away.  Nothing interesting to see.  Right.  Just a job like any other.  He took out one of his knives and began flipping it idly

“Why do we haveta hire burglars?” Phinks complained in a hoarse whisper. “We can do it ourselves.”

“No question Dachou, idiot.”  Feitan hissed, “He know what he doing.”

Phinks, who was _not_ questioning the boss’s choices at all, but just bitching in general, scowled down at his small friend and associate.  He searched for something provocative to say.

“Yeah, yeah, you say that just cuz you’re sucking his dick,”

Unperturbed, Feitan shot back : “I always suck his dick.  You just jealous I not sucking _yours_ so much.”

“Guys!”  Shalnark admonished. “You know this gang specialises in burgling _houses_ ,”  he explained, “They know about disabling alarums, opening safes, dealing with guards, and guard dogs, quietly … you _know_ that.”

Phinks ostentatiously pulled at the crotch of his tracksuit. All the sucking conversation had caused a bit of tightness.

“The Pente girls are kinda cute, though.  That blonde one, she’s not bad at all,”  Phinks hummed and palmed himself.

“Fuck, idiot,“ Feitan snapped. ”No wanna see you cum in you pants!”

“What?  She’s got great legs!”  Phinks scratched his jaw in contemplation, “Got no tits though.  The other one, that Fox, _she’s_ got a nice rack.”

Feitan was a boob man and he couldn't _not_ look at tits, even if he’d just checked them out.  He glanced at the burglars again; two beefy men were packing some gear into a duffle, the other woman, a willowy blonde called Tandi, was smoking, looking a bit jittery, and The Fox was standing as she was before, relaxed, intimidating, arms crossed under her very nice breasts.

Feitan licked his lips, then his gaze crept upward.

She was looking at them and Feitan was taken aback, as always.  Her eyes were golden, very like Hisoka’s, but slightly darker, a deep gold.

Feitan blinked, realizing he was staring, and instinctively looked away.

“Don’t care about dumb tits,” Feitan snarled,

“Shit,” Phinks breathed, “She’s fucking checking me out!”

“Tch!  Simon going to have your ass!”

Feitan shoved his knife and both hands into his pockets and turned slightly away, ignoring everybody.

 

Later, at the hotel, Shalnark and Phinks spoke while Tandi was on the balcony smoking.  Simon had given Chrollo his two best burglars; Tandi,  their B&E expert, still looking wiry and nervous, and The Fox, their safe-cracker.  They hopefully would have no use for ordnance or explosives - the other two Pente’s specialities.

“So what are we gonna do?  What’s the gameplan?” asked Phinks, fidgeting and rubbing his hands down his tracksuit trouser legs.  Shalnark shrugged.

“All I know is that Simon and Danchou are supposed to be sending The Fox and Fei to the reception.”

“What the hell?!  Fei and I, or you and I could have done it!”

“They wanted to send two people who were … ‘edgy’.  To hold the attention of the marks.”

Phinks grunted irritably.  “I can see Fei, but her?  She …”

Feitan appeared at the bedroom door, decked out.  Black cutaway tuxedo jacket, silver watch chain across the elaborately embroidered black waistcoat, white shirt, white tie, black skinny jeans and, finally, black Doc Martens.  Phinks and Shal made obnoxious wolf whistles and kissy noises while Feitan scowled self consciously.

Chrollo followed Feitan, fussing over the garments.  Their danchou straightened and tugged and smoothed until he was satisfied Feitan looked as good as an already good-looking thief could.

“Where’s your girl, Simon?” he asked sharply into the open door of the other room.

“Here,”

The Fox stepped around her boss and into the room.  The effect on every man there was electric.

If Feitan was dressed formally, if edgily, The Fox was as modern and fresh as paint.

She was wearing a little black dress made of buttery leather.  It was strapless and barely covered her crotch it was so short.  The unnaturally dark red fur of some animal was the stole that she wore around her shoulders.  The juxtaposition of black and red and pale soft skin was shocking to the eye.

Her generous breasts were held aloft by - apparently magic - in the dress with no sleeves, no straps, and very little back.

But Feitan was concentrating on the stockings.

Ahh, the stockings.

Her shoes (strangely they were flats) and her stockings were black.  But rather than hiding her garter belt straps she was flaunting them.  Her stockings began a good six inches below the hem of her dress, suspended by black satin straps with black satin bows.  Between the two was pale, soft, flesh.

“Are we set?” Simon asked gruffly, clearly displeased at the effect his Pente had on the Ryodan.

Chrollo, who was not immune to stockings and leather, had to clear his throat.

“Yes.  Yes, we’re set,”

He turned.

“Feitan?”

The small spider was frozen, staring, head cocked, at that six inches of thigh.

“Fei …!”

Feitan started and colored immediately.

Simon glowered around the room at the Troupe members. He leveled a thin finger at Chrollo.

“You keep your horny spiders offa my girls, Lucilfer!”

Chrollo, who himself would have happily fucked both of the young women if they’d asked, regarded him blankly.

Oh, this was going to be a challenge.

 

As they walked to the limo Feitan tried very hard not to look at The Fox’s nice ass encased in black leather or her smoothly muscled back or …

_Oh god ..._

The stockings were the old fashioned sort with the darker tops and seams up the back.  Feitan could not take his eyes off of the two black lines heading upward toward the promised land.

Feitan blushed and chewed his lip, smoothing his hand down the front of his trousers.

_Stupid stockings.  Stupid Pente._


	2. Info and a Necklace

Ch. 2 - Info and A Necklace

The house they intended to burgle and reclaim their coins was owned by the insanely rich widow of a mob boss.  The cause of the man’s fortune had been his quiet bookkeeper.  The cause of his demise was still subject to wild speculation.

At his death, both the fortune and the bookkeeper had passed on to his widow.  She managed both the money and the bookkeeper with an iron hand, one in the bank, the other in the bedroom.

She owned three different homes in York New alone and they had to find out which one held the goods.  That’s where Fei and Fox came in.

It was a known fact that the widow liked small, meek, cute, men and while Feitan was the polar opposite of meek, he  _ was _ small and very, very pretty.  If he could keep the murder out of his eyes for ten seconds he might be in.  

So to speak. 

The Fox’s job was the Bookkeeper and no one doubted her in the least.

 

Feitan sulked during the limo ride to the venue.  He hated crap like this.  Their ‘chauffeur’ of the stolen limo, Shalnark, looking blondly handsome in slightly bloodstained livery, kept a casual eye on his friend in case some calming or soothing needed doing.  Fox gazed boredly out the window.

When Shalnark opened the door to the limo for The Fox, she stepped out and everyone within eyesight appraised her.  Feitan scowled around.  They needed to keep their eyes to themselves.  He now kind of understood how Simon felt. 

The Pente tucked her arm into his and suddenly he realised why she wore the flats.  Fox was a few inches taller than Feitan and she had foregone heels for … for … making him feel more comfortable?

Feitan glanced up at her.  She seemed excited, on edge, but prepared.  He thought she looked particularly pretty like that, with her cheeks slightly flushed, pink lips parted.

_ Shit!  Had he gone insane? _

_ He needed a drink _

 

“Need a drink,” Feitan announced as soon as they got inside.

Most of the people in the room - male and female - seemed to be appreciating them.  Feitan cringed inwardly.  He hated being looked at.  Didn't Fox hate being looked at?  How could she stand all the leering?

The small spider gripped Fox’s elbow a bit too tightly and attempted to steer her toward the bar.

“Hey, you little psychopath,” she hissed. “You’re hurting me!”

“At least I not almost flashing pussy at everybody,” He snarled back,

“It’s  _ my _ fucking pussy, I can do what I want with it!”

Feitan barely stifled a groan, half frustration, half picturing the body part in question and  _ what _ she might be inclined to do with it.  He suddenly felt hot in all his finery.

He tugged at her elbow again.

“Ugh!  Let me go little crazy man!”

They’d made it up to the bar where Feitan deposited her onto a stool and stood over her.

“Stop calling names or I kill you,”

“Yeah, yeah, “ Fox murmured, surveying the people surveying her.

Feitan gripped her arm again, hard.  She didn’t spare him a look.

“What you gonna do I decide to kill you?!”  He hissed, letting his fingers sink in.

“Take my top down,”  Fox said, calmly.

Feitan jerked, the grip on her arm loosening.

“W-what?”

“I said I’ll take the top of my dress down,” she made finger quotes, “‘Accidently,’”

“You no strip in front of people!”  Feitan said, aghast.  The little thief couldn’t have told you if that was a disbelieving statement or a jealous request.

“Why not?  They’re just boobs,”

Feitan carefully studied the boobs in question, conveniently located not much lower than his chin when she was standing.  They weren’t ‘just’ boobs.  Boobs were awesome.   _ Her _ boobs were awesome.  They were all kinds of awesome.

Feitan shot a glance around the room. Not a few people were still appraising them.  Apparently the fact that they appeared to be on a date and were arguing was giving hope to some admirers.

The thought of any of them getting to see The Fox in just her bra (the very edge of which he could see - satin as red as blood, edged with delicate black lace) made him feel like his face was on fire.

 

His reverie was interrupted by Fox nudging his arm.

She gestured with her chin.  A large entourage had entered and at the heart of it was their mark.  The mob boss’s widow, Viola Ingraham, was a large woman.  Not just big but tall.  She had to be 5’10” at least and was comfortably heavyset with broad hips and impressive breasts.  She was pushing age 60, so the carefully coiffed hair in a sandy gold was a bit off-putting.  Despite her status she wore only a few gold bracelets and the only real impressive finery was a necklace of diamonds and citrines (she thought they complimented her ‘natural’ hair color) that tumbled across her mountainous cleavage.

Beside her was the Bookkeeper.  He was a small man like Feitan but the resemblance ended there.  The Bookkeeper was diffident, soft spoken, pale haired, and almost fragile.  Feitan studied his languid movements and soft eyes, both so unlike himself and wondered if they shouldn’t have just sent Shal, the better actor, and hoped that the size thing wouldn't be a problem.

The group had converged on a table and various goons had gotten the Mob Queen settled with champagne in one hand and a cute waiter by her side.

As she contemplated her order, Viola Ingraham fondled the waiter’s ass.  The young man was visibly sweating.

The Fox frowned.

“Feitan,” she murmured.

The spider jerked.

“Follow my lead.  Let’s get this done.”

She stood.

And slapped Feitan in the face.

She didn’t use all of her strength but she didn’t hold back either and Feitan, taken completely unaware, staggered back a step, snarling.

“You sniveling piece of  _ shit! _ ”  Fox spat at him.

This startled Feitan so much that his expression slipped from fury to confusion.  He stared up into her face.  The entire room went quiet.

“You can go find someone  _ else _ to ride that wandering  _ dick  _ of yours!”

There were delighted mutters at the potential entertainment and titters at the language.  The Mob widow was riveted.

“You’ll fuck anything that  _ stands still _ long enough!”

And at that Fox huffed off toward an interior exit. Several potential suitors drifted after her like hummingbirds after a flower. 

Every eye in the room, including the widow’s, turned to Feitan. He cursed the Fox’s existence under his breath and jerked at his waistcoat, straightening it.

That he was a sexy little bastard - when he wasn’t covered with someone else's blood - wasn’t his fault, but it still irritated him sometimes.

He cut his eyes across the room to the mob widow.

Viola Ingraham was up and heading his way.

  
  


Viola was an incredibly shrewd person when it came to business but was pretty stupid about her own worth and appeal. She thought herself the perfect hostess, not realizing that people were nice out of fear. She thought herself popular, not realizing that people were fawning over her in hopes of garnering an advantage to themselves. And it never, never, ever had occurred to her that her mousy accountant would want to fuck anyone else but her. 

While she herself was determined to get in Feitan’s jeans and had complete confidence in her abilities, Fox was working on the Bookkeeper's khakis.

The mild little man had slipped thankfully out when Viola’s attention had been captured by a certain small spider.  He hadn’t seen exactly what had caused the ruckus - he rarely paid attention to anything but numbers - but it gave him a respite from the widow.

It wasn’t a moment before he found himself watching a group of men and women crowded around a ruddy haired woman with a fox tattoo on her neck.

Just like Viola liked meek men, the Bookkeeper liked powerful women.  That The Fox was clearly a dangerous specimen who would gladly eat him alive only turned him on.  When she turned those golden eyes on him a shiver went up his spine.

 

The Fox was playing it fast and loose. She reclined against a bar in one of the various rooms being used for the reception, several people around her. To all outward appearances she was drunk, angry, and very, very horny. 

“He fucks good but he’s broke as shit,”. She was whining to a tall brunette woman who had her hand  _ very _ high up on Fox’s thigh. 

“Can’ I … can’ I get a good fucking AND NICE things?  Shit!”  She pretended to slip and leaned forward till her bosom was almost in the Bookkeepers face

“I-I’ll buy you something …” He offered quickly. Fox perked up immediately. She leaned into him.  His breath smelled like antacid. She toyed with the bow tie around his skinny neck. 

“Like what, for instance?”

The Bookkeeper, overseer of a multi billion Jenny fortune, stood up straighter. He was getting some new pussy tonight.   “Any… anything!  You name it!”

 

It took Fox four minutes to isolate and partially undress the Bookkeeper and exactly eight minutes to discover that, while he knew a lot - easily enough to ruin Viola Ingraham - he had no idea where Viola’s specific treasures were. Fox quickly coaxed him into drinking himself into a stupor despite his protests (he claimed never to drink more than two glasses but changed his mind when Fox poured the third glass over her bare thighs and dared him to lick it off.)

She left him, glasses smudged and askew, sleeping in a huge footed bathtub on the third floor.  Out of kindness she shucked his trousers off.  Perhaps he’d convince himself he’d fucked her after all.

She set out hunting for Feitan. 

 

She found him on the first floor at the end of a long corridor of posh rooms. Or rather she found Viola’s booming voice. Getting closer she distinguished Feitan’s own low whispery voice, hoarse with rage.

Fox hit the door to the suite with one shoulder and it crashed inward, ricocheting off the wall.  She staggered and took in the scene before her.

Viola Ingraham was drunk.  Not just drunk, but falling down intoxicated.  She was currently slumped almost bonelessly back onto the bed, fingers of one hand hooked in Feitan’s waistcoat.

Feitan was angry and clearly trying to control himself.  He was awkwardly leant half over the older woman, one knee on the bed as she tried to pull him down on top of her.  Her other hand, with it’s disturbingly long nails, gripped Feitan’s junk through his skinny jeans.

She fondled rather roughly and the small spider gritted his teeth.

“You’re not hard!  Why aren’t you hard?”

Fox stepped forward, frowning.

“Who the fuck’re you?” the mob widow asked, “Why’s zis li’l faggot not hard?”

“There’s a trick to it,” Fox murmured, punching Viola Ingraham in the face and knocking her out.

Fox eyeballed Feitan, “I hope you got the info,”

Feitan nodded, gently massaging his abused crotch.

“Need any help with that?” She asked, smirking.

“You get chance to show strangers you tits?” He retorted. 

“Too bad you’re not a stranger then I’d show ‘em to you,”

“Let’s go!”  He snapped and grabbed her, hustling her toward the door.

“Wait, wait, wait!”  The Fox slipped out of his grasp, “We gotta steal something or they’ll know …”

She tugged at the diamond and citrine necklace around the comatose woman’s neck.

Feitan growled.

“What?!  It matches my eyes.” 

The necklace clasp broke then and Feitan’s hand slipped around Fox’s waist, as she gathered up her prize, tugging her out the door.

 

After Chrollo got the info from Feitan and Fox (and giggled helplessly over the stories), they planned the heist for three days from then, when Viola had a charity ‘do’ guaranteed to keep her out of their hair for at least a few hours.

 


	3. “You’ve damaged one of our burglars, Fei”

Ch. 3 - “You’ve damaged one of our burglars, Fei”

 

They moved toward the target in two separate cars.  Danchou had split is people up and the the burglars as well.

Shalnark, Phinks, and Tandi were in the first car.

Chrollo, Feitan, and The Fox were in the second car.

Chrollo drove, Feitan sat shotgun, the burglar sat in the back, silent.

“This should be an easy job,” Chrollo said.

No one spoke.

“You should be home by midnight,”

Chrollo watched the girl through the rearview mirror.  She sat silent, a small frown on her face.  Truth be told, Chrollo was more than attracted to the woman.  She was fast becoming his favourite Pente, obviously clever, supposedly adept, and not at all bad on the eyes.

Chrollo hissed at Feitan

_ “Talk to her” _ he mouthed.

_ “Why?” _ Feitan mouthed back

_ “To put her at ease” _

_ “What?” _

Chrollo sighed and concentrated on his driving.

 

When they reached their destination, they had to wait for the widow and her entourage to leave so they could get into the mansion.

Chrollo parked along a side street with other cars, looking inconspicuous.  He slouched down in his seat, stretching his arms over his head.

The burglar rustled in the back.

“Is everything ok?” Chrollo asked softly

“Hai”                   

Her voice was low and soft.  Even Feitan glanced back.

There was more rustling, then a grunt from her.

“Kuso!“ it was almost inaudible, then, in American accented English, to herself, “need a knife ...”  Chrollo looked pointedly at Feitan who frowned.

Finally he poked the man in the arm

“Tch!”

Feitan turned, getting up on his knees, leaning against the back of the seat, and produced a small knife out of thin air. 

“Naifu,” He said drily       

The Fox looked at him 

“Arigato” she said.

Feitan jerked back

“Tch”

He sat back down.

There was rustling and murmuring as she apparently got her gear squared away, and - startlingly - quiet humming.

Crollo smiled despite himself.  The tune was one he remembered from meteor city.  How she came by it, he didn’t know - the words would have been in Japanese - but she knew it well.  Chrollo’s gaze met Feitan's.  Feitan recognised it too, frowning down at his lap.

She went on for a bit and Chrollo let his eyes drift shut.

 

“AH!”

Feitan jumped and Chrollo snapped awake.  Both looked around.

The burglar was cursing in English and clutching her left hand.

“What happened?” Chrollo asked.

The girl didn’t reply.

Chrollo leaned over the seat, reaching for her hand.  She avoided him.

“It’s fine!  I can still do the job!”

“Let me see!” Chrollo said.  He finally pulled the hand to him.  There was a stab wound in the pad below her forefinger and blood ran down her arm and dripped off her elbow.

“Shit.”

Chrollo produced a dove grey silk handkerchief and pressed it to the wound.

“Fei?”

Feitan scooted over, taking the burglar’s hand and the handkerchief.

“What the hell happened?” Chrollo asked, fishing around in Feitan’s pocket for the smaller man’s handkerchief and wiping the blood off of his own hand.

“It slipped … “ Fox said

Feitan bit his lower lip.

“Knife very sharp …”

Fox shakily inhaled, clearly fighting tears.

“Great,” Chrollo grumbled, “You’ve damaged one of our burglars, Fei.”

Feitan cringed and concentrated on the Fox’s palm.  The cut was fairly deep , situated right under her index finger. 

“Need my bag,” Feitan grunted, wiping blood.

Chrollo grabbed it out of the floorboard with one hand and dialed his cell with the other.  He stepped out of the car, standing in the V made by the door..

“Shal, we have a small situation over here …”

Feitan tuned him out and rummaged through his bag one handed.  Eventually he had everything laid out.

The handkerchief was a mess but her hand was mostly clean.  Blood still oozed from the wound and there was a small smear of blood at the base of her fingers and a thin stripe down her arm. 

 

Feitan was breathing faster.  He had to resist the urge to lick up the blood from between the burglar’s fingers.  Lick her warm skin, taste her blood, his lips, his teeth, his tongue, on her tanned flesh.  Salt and iron.   He swallowed.  He had to distract himself. 

“Y-you be still,”  he said in English, “It not too deep.”

She nodded. “Hn … Feitan.” 

Feitan felt suddenly funny, almost light headed at her saying his name.

Again he hesitated, distracted by that small smear of blood.

“Uh …” Fox began

Feitan shook himself. “No complain,” he snarled, “I not …”

She interrupted him.

“You c-can … if you …” her voice dropped to a whisper, “...If you want,”  She lifted her hand up to him, palm up. How she knew what it was that he wanted Feitan didn’t know but he swayed at the heady scent of blood and woman.

His resolve lasted less than three heartbeats,

“Can?  … Sure?”

Fox nodded.

Feitan gingerly took her hand in one of his small ones and her arm in the other.  He bent his head, moving before he could talk himself out of it, second guess himself, licking slowly into her palm, carefully avoiding her wound. 

Fox jerked.  The sensation of his tongue, so hot and wet on her skin, startled her and … and …

She trapped her lower lip in her teeth and a tiny moan escaped her.  Feitan licked across her now clean palm again.  His grey eyes flickered upwards and he locked gazes with her from under his black lashes.

Fox trembled.

Suddenly Feitan shifted, pressing her down onto the seat and hovering over her. His left hand was on her upper arm.  He gripped a little too tight, his eagerness getting the better of him.  He bent again, licking a wide, slow, hot stripe up the inside of her arm.

“Ahhh!”

She arched up, nipples going hard.  The dark thief sucked gently, making faint marks on her fair flesh.

_ How does this feel so good? _

Feitan lowered himself onto her, his right knee pressing between her thighs.  He moved his mouth from the inside of her upper arm to her throat.  He licked purposefully now, kissing her, nipping her silky skin, sucking marks onto her.  His fingers drifted over one erect nipple.

“F-feitan!”  she pushed at him weakly, trying - not very hard - to force him off.  He held his ground, his knee still firmly between her legs.  He ran his hand up her arm to tangle in her hair and drew her into a kiss

She could taste her own blood on his lips and feel his agile tongue in her mouth.  His free hand gently stroked her hip. 

They heard Chrollo’s voice, close. 

Feitan reluctantly sat up and bent quickly back to his task, cleaning blood from around the wound, trying very hard to ignore the earthy smell of blood combined with the burglar’s own warm scent.

“This hurt,” he said quietly, dabbing disinfectant.

The Fox squeaked and jerked, lip caught in her teeth.

Feitan looked at her, momentarily distracted by the flash of white on her pink lower lip.

The passenger side back door opened suddenly and Shalnark slid in.  he lifted a hand to the Fox.

“Hi!  I heard we had a little hitch?”

“No problem,” Feitan muttered. “She still do job.”

Shal and Chrollo watched him carefully put in two stitches to hold the wound closed. 

After the small spider deftly bandaged the hand, Shalnark smiled.

“You guys had better go.  Tandi’s champing at the bit, and Phinks is … well Phinksy has something on his mind with Tandi that doesn’t involve burglary.”

Shal grinned and Chrollo shook his head.

 


	4. Complications

Ch. 4 - Complications

Both Pente were dressed all in form fitting black, a look admired by the present Ryodan. They all halted about 25 feet from the fence.  Shalnark gestured,

“Dogs,”  

There were four.  Fox unslung her backpack and took out some black lengths of metal.  In under two minutes she had assembled it into a rifle.

Phinks - who didn’t speak english - patted Fox’s arm urgently,

“Wait, what are you doing?  You can’t shoot the dogs!”

Fox, who spoke very little Japanese, stared at him.

He pointed at the dogs, “You can’t shoot the dogs!”

Fox got it.

“iie! Iie!  Inu … uh … inu ... “ she finally held up a slender, sharp object with a fuzzy bit on the end.  She handed it to Feitan.

“What is that?”  Chrollo asked,

“Tranq dart.  That air gun.  Not hurt dog, Phinks, you big idiot,”

 

Fox tranqed the dogs through the fence with practiced ease and - to everyone’s surprise - unlocked the massive gate.  Apparently she wasn’t just a safe cracker, but could open almost any mechanical lock.

Getting in the huge mansion - it was styled like a castle and almost as big as one -after that was shockingly easy.  Even the Troupe members were impressed.  Both Tandi and The Fox were manipulators and while Fox’s talents leant her toward opening locks, Tandi’s made her a specialist in security systems.

They worked in smooth conjunction on a side window, Tandi manipulating the electrical grid and Fox fiddling the locks open.  In the massive foyer, they stood grouped loosely on acres and acres of marble between two arching staircases.

“Shal,” Chrollo said, “You and Tandi and Phinks go left, Fei and Fox and I will go right.  Call me if you find the safe.”

They split up, each group up a different staircase.

 

They hadn’t even made it to each room of the first floor before Phinks came panting up.

“Boss, we got a problem.  There’s at least two groups of Ingraham’s gang moving through the house,”

“Shit!” Chrollo said, “Did something alert them?”

“Dunno, but Shal and Tandi ducked up to the third floor.”

At that moment there was a crash from the next room.

“Shit,” Phinks said with feeling,

Chrollo frowned, “Guests already?  You stay here, Fox.  We’ll be back.”

Chrollo held up one slender pale hand and Bandit’s Secret appeared in his grasp.  Feitan’s right hand sharpened like a razor. Phinks cracked his neck and grinned.

“Let’s go say hello,”

The three men slipped out the door.

 

Fox had no intention of staying there and being useless, as soon as the Ryodan were gone she moved down the hall, looking for the safe.

At the next landing she encountered a dead body, shot through the head with it’s own gun. 

That was weird. 

She rolled the corpse over. There was a small pin prick in the back of the man’s neck.  

_ Shalnark _ .

Fox gathered up the dead man’s gun.  Shal and Tandi were also headed for the vault.  She needed to find them.

Fox was moving quickly down a hall, trailing her hand along the wall, when she realised that the wallpaper had changed textures.  She stopped to look, backtracked, frowning.

The brocade pattern was smoother here.  She ran her fingertips over the paper.

It was a door.  A very well hidden door. 

There was no handle or lock visible which meant that it was surely remotely controlled.  Shit, where was Tandi when you needed her?  Probably somewhere fucking Phinks. 

This thought made her think of Feitan’s compact, muscular body pressed against hers, his tongue in her mouth. She blushed. 

Simon was going to kill them both. 

 

Reaching out with her nen she could “see” the complex locking mechanisms in the door but couldn’t move them. They were all restrained by electronic locks. 

Fox cursed under her breath and, noting exactly where the door was located, retreated down the hall. 

 

At the end of the hall she jogged up the stairs, hopeful of finding Shalnark and Tandi on the third floor.  As she stepped off the stairs she rounded a corner right into two thugs; one male, one female. Fox brought the pilfered gun up instinctively and shot the one on her left, the man. He seemed as startled as she was that she got the shot off. Fox was a nen user and a safecracker and a brawler in a pinch but she had very little experience with weapons.  Protecting her life was the job of her gang mates. She studiously ignored the fact that she’d just walked away from three powerful nen users who would have had no problem protecting her.

Fuck it.

She and the female squared off. The woman was armed with only a knife. Fox grinned and held the gun up, dangling it by one finger through the trigger guard. 

“Wanna make it interesting?  I’ll toss mine. You toss yours.”

The woman straightened. 

“Stupid Ryodan bitch,” she spat, in English. 

“Hey!”  Fox protested,

Behind the woman another two men appeared, fanning out. Fox scowled. The woman smiled. 

“Just die spider. We will torture one of your men to find the coins. We don’t need you.”

“Get away, Fox,” a voice said behind her.  It was Feitan. “These filth mine,”

Fox reacted to this by shooting the man to her left point blank in the head in the millisecond he was distracted by feitan.

She heard Feitan curse and a knife sprouted from the second man’s throat. Fox tackled the woman, trying to twist her knife out of her hand. That earned her a heel of a hand into her nose.  Blood ran down her face.

The Fox wasn’t a small woman, and she sure as shit wasn’t timid.  She pummeled the woman mercilessly until she felt Feitan grabbing at her.

“Leave me alone!  I got this!”

Feitan was crazy strong and he managed to pin one of her arms,

“She  _ mine _ .  I kill her.  You go do safe cracking stuff!”

Fox struggled with him, letting the woman sag unconscious to the floor

Feitan was obviously trying not to hurt her but was just as obviously running out of patience. He finally got Fox’s hand up behind her back and slammed her down over a table,  She spat and cursed and writhed as he held on grimly, one hand gripping her wrist behind her back and the other on the back of her neck, pushing down.

She finally wore herself out, going quiet except for blowing snot and blood out of her nose onto the table

“You be good?” Feitan growled

“Fuck you,”

Feitan leaned, pressing harder on the back of her neck, making her grunt.

 

In order for the shorter Feitan to reach her neck he had had to jam himself up against her backside.  His body recognised the delicacy of the position before his brain did.  Fox, meanwhile, snarled a muffled curse and rocked her hips, trying to get leverage.

Feitan’s cock throbbed.

He was literally up on his tiptoes, his entire body from knees to chest laid against hers.  She shifted her hips again, rubbing against him without thinking. His dick spasmed, swelling.

“Fuck you” took on a whole other meaning.

There was no way she couldn’t feel it.  She went completely still, completely quiet

“F-feitan?”

“Shit!” said the little spider crisply.

“Feitan let me up,”

That made Feitan inexplicably angry.  Why should he do as she said?

“Maybe I no let you up,”  He spat, “Feel good.  I stay.” he announced belligerently.

She had her head turned toward him - as much as she could - and she licked her bloody lips, which didn’t help Feitan’s boner problem.

The small man groaned quietly.  She _ did _ feel good.  He  _ did  _ want to stay.  He’d never tell _ her _ that.

His brain was starting to catch up with his body and he tried to derail his single-minded cock by taking his weight off of her neck.  She made a small sound but couldn’t go anywhere because he still had her arm pinned to her back.

“Feitan,” she said quietly, “Let me go,”

“No, you steal my kill,” he pouted,

Feitan wasn’t really thinking about his kill. His mind was wandering.  Wandering dangerously.

His free right hand crept toward the hem of The Fox’s shirt where it had ridden up.  His small, pale hand nudged up under the fabric, fingers drifting over smooth tan skin.  Before she could react he had dragged the shirt up and was kissing along her ribs.

“Fei … tan, oh!”

He smiled against her skin and his tongue darted out, tracing the muscles of her back.  He pulled his hand back, letting it drift over her ass, gripping gently.

“Feitan.  The woman!”

The small spider cursed in Chinese and released The Fox.  Two seconds later the goon’s head was rolling on the floor.  When Feitan turned back, The Fox was gone.


	5. Torture and the Machine

  1. 5 - Torture and The Machine



Feitan cursed creatively to himself in Chinese as he crept down endless halls, opening every door.  He was looking for not just the safe now, but Fox as well.

On the third floor, just past the stairs, Feitan passed a door then paused.  There was something odd there.

He slipped into the room then staggered slightly with vertigo.  The room was basically an abandoned indoor swimming pool;  It was round with a small landing by the door then steps around the curving wall that lead down to where the water would be.  The entire room was covered in white and pale blue tile.

Feitan shivered.  There was something kind of spooky about a dry pool. He crept down the steps, spiraling down toward the bottom.

 

When his nen left him Feitan jerked, startled, then there was pain and blackness.

 

A half an hour later, in another part of the mansion:

“We’re not leaving without Feitan!” Chrollo said firmly. “Phinks, Find him!   _ Where is he _ ?!”

 

Where was he, indeed?

The phantom troupe's interrogator was in a situation he’d rarely been in.  He was mostly naked, handcuffed, and strung up; his beautiful pale body stretched out, muscles straining.  A winch pulled the handcuffs upward so that he was almost on his toes.  A steel spreader bar kept his legs apart.  A black blindfold was over his eyes, a black silicone bit gagging his mouth.  His gorgeous black hair was slicked down with sweat and runnels of it dripped down his chiseled torso.

Worst of all, some kind of nen device - a squat, nondescript machine - hummed against the curved wall, robbing him of his nen

He had no idea who held him, but assumed Viola’s men.  His interrogator, whose face he never saw but whose lewd hands he’d felt, was speaking, had been speaking and speaking and  _ speaking _ until Feitan was sick of all the talk and wished the torturing would just fucking begin.

“And so, If you …”

There was a small wet sound, then silence.

Feitan’s head turned.  

_ What the fuck …? _

The man’s voice had stopped mid sentence.  He couldn’t even hear him breathing.  Was there someone else in the room?  He waited, straining his ears.  The abandoned pool room sent back distorted echoes of the tiniest noises, making it confusing.  Finally there was a small sound, a kind of sigh, and the susurration of fabric and a gentle thump.

There  _ was _ someone else.

He could hear stealthy footsteps crossing the room.  Not like someone  _ trying _ to be quiet, but more like someone who was naturally quiet.

Saliva dripped from the silicone gag.

Feitan suddenly realised two things about the person in the room with him.  One, that person had killed his torturer; the overwhelming metallic tang of a large quantity of blood had reached him.  Secondly, the person was female.  There was no mistaking that maddening scent - something lightly musky, a scented soap, and the warm earthy smell of female that caused his dick to perk up.

Well, it probably wasn’t one of Ingraham’s.  Every one of them he’d seen were men.  Who the fuck then?  Viola herself?

Whoever she was, she was right in front of him now, he could feel her warm breath, smelling faintly of cinnamon, on his face.  He felt her cool fingers on his jaw, on his throat, thumb gliding over his adam’s apple.  His breath quickened and he swallowed hard, subconsciously baring his pale throat for the assumed knife.

Oh, was he ever wrong.

The fingers - instead - were followed by her soft, warm, mouth.

Feitan jerked, trying not to react, trying not to let out that tiny, breathless moan that escaped anyway.  

His assailant (Torturer? Mistress?!) ran hands over his bare torso, rubbing thumbs over his erect nipples, pinching.  She nibbled, then bit at his soft neck.

Feitan tried, he tried  _ so hard, _ but he just couldn’t fucking help it.  He moaned again, back arching, his cock swelling.

If this was Viola, she was in for a treat.

He felt the unseen woman run her hand across his lower belly, across the silky black hair there that disappeared into his waistband.  The spider jerked again, cock throbbing, the muscles of his stomach jumping.

Her fingers wandered downward over the slick black nylon of his boxer briefs - the only clothing he had on.

Feitan dropped his chin to his chest and whined as she lightly stroked him through the cloth.

_ This was  _ **_not_ ** _ happening. _

_ He was  _ **_not_ ** _ responding to some unknown woman just because being tied up and at her mercy was fucking hot. _

_ This  _ **_was_ ** _ happening.   _

**_Shit._ **

He shamelessly and greedily tried to thrust his hips forward, tried to push his hard-on into her hand.

Her fingers never stopped, never sped up, never slowed, but kept a steady stroke.  Feitan’s cock was red, hard, and tenting the black fabric, leaking precum that made a growing wet spot in the front

“Feitan …”

He started.  That voice went right to the small spider’s cock, causing it to jump.  He  _ knew _ that voice.

It was The Fox.

He was relieved, irritated, and oh so turned on.

“Now what have you gotten yourself into, Little crazy man?”

Gagged as he was, he couldn’t answer.

He knew what he  _ wanted _ to get himself into.  Or whom ...

He heard her hum, move away from him.  If he hadn’t been gagged he would have begged, pleaded like a child for her to come back, to touch him again. There were a few clicks, and suddenly, blessedly, amazingly, he had his nen back.  She had switched off the machine.

She was close to him again.

Feitan, with his nen back,  could easily break his bonds and be free but he … he … waited.

“Now.  What shall we do with you, little spider?”

Fei hummed around his gag, willing her to put her hands back on him.

When she didn’t, he begged incoherently around the gag, spit dripping, pre-cum dripping, whining with need.  His gorgeous porcelain body flexed in the restraints and he heard her little moan of pleasure at the sight.

Then he felt her cool hands again, now on his bare back, his muscles jumped as she traced every dip and curve.

The whine became another moan, louder, desperate.

Then she was gone.

Feitan listened.  He couldn’t hear her.  Where had she gone?  His cock was almost painfully hard.  Even she wasn’t this sadistic.  Finally he let his nen reach out.  Wait.  She was still right in front him, only …

_ Shit _

_ On her knees. _

Right about then he jumped as she snagged the waistband of his underpants.  Before he could react, his gorgeous cock was out and in her hand and then, without giving him a second to adjust, he felt her hot wet mouth on him.

Feitan’s dark head snapped back; he blew spit out around his gag as he gasped for breath.  He tried not to but he couldn’t help rutting forward into her soft mouth as much as he could.  Her little moans of pleasure didn’t help him keep calm.  

She swirled her tongue around the head, flicking the underside and making him squirm.  She probed into the slit and very gently dragged her teeth over his glans. Finally she let him thrust into her and soon he was completely under her control.  Bound, gagged, blindfolded, and fucking her mouth desperately.

She kept backing off so that his hard member couldn’t reach, then surging forward, tongue swirling.  She gently fondled his balls, then was gone, then back, dragging her fingernails up the insides of his trembling thighs.

Feitan was completely consumed.  His every thought, every action, focused sharply, laser-like, on her unseen mouth, on her hands.  If she were to pull off, leave, he felt like he would die.

She let him get close to cumming almost a half a dozen times, always backing off right as that heat hit his gut.  The last time had him crying out piteously, begging, and she finally let him keep on, stay inside, thrusting desperately.

Abruptly he was there, right at the edge of orgasm, hips snapping forward into her wet warmth.  She stopped her teasing, wrapping her hand around the base of his cock and allowed him to thrust into her mouth as far as he could without gagging her.  And thrust he did, rhythm quickly becoming ragged.  He mumbled and grunted mindlessly around the gag, which turned into moans, that turned into a high keening.  He came then, hard, down her throat, the gripping sensation as she swallowed making him jerk like a fish on a line.

Finally, finally, he hung limp in his restraints, satiated, exhausted, panting, sweat dripping onto the floor.

He felt the tension on the handcuffs ease - she must be winching him down - until he was sitting on the floor.  Gentle hands removed the gag, the spreader bar, then the blindfold.  Fox was knelt in front of him again, this time with a warm washcloth that she used to wipe the sweat and saliva off of his face.

He flopped back onto the cold floor.

She gently wiped his chest and belly down.

Feitan tipped his head toward her.

“Owe you now,” he said, voice low and gritty and utterly fucked out.

The fox smiled as if she didn’t trust his wherewithal to follow through.

“Mean it!” he croaked, grabbing her hand, “Wanna taste you, lick you till you scream my name,”

The Fox lifted one slender eyebrow,

“It’s a date, then” She murmured

 


	6. “What day it?”

Ch. 6 - “What day it?”

They came down the long opulent hall like two ghosts, Feitan keeping a wary eye out and Fox running the fingers of both hands over the right hand wall.

Fox paused.

“Here,”

Feitan inspected the wall while Fox ‘looked’ again at the mechanism.  She could unlock it if the electronics were not in place.  She snarled a frustrated sound and pounded the wall with one fist.

Feitan closed both small hands over hers.

“Can you see wires?” He asked.

“Wires?  Kinda …”

“Help me find … place where wires come together,”

“Junction box?”

Feitan nodded, pleased that she’d understood.

Fox began methodically searching the wall.  About eight feet to their right was a door, presumably to a bedroom.  To their left, about 20 feet away, was another door, then the end of the hall.

Feitan realised, by comparing the two sides of the hall, that there was a door missing.  The last suite on the right must be big.  Master suite?  Viola’s bedroom?

“Here,” Fox said decisively, indicating a light switch.  “Lotsa wires behind here,”

Feitan crossed to her and waved her away,

“Go. Stand over there”

The small thief put both hands on the wall, one on either side of the lightswitch.  He closed his eyes, focussing his mind on his own raw, chafed wrists from being held in restraints.

The air got perceptibly hotter.

Fox gawked.  She was getting to see one of Feitan’s rumored powers first hand.  This wasn't Painpacker Rising Sun - the full power of which no one had ever seen - but something smaller, more precise.

Feitan’s nen glowerd around him, black and red,  and licked up the wall from his hands.  In  minutes the lights at the end of the hall flickered and went out.  There was a burst of crackling and the plaster split around the lightswitch, showing the orangey red of fire.

Abruptly a person-sized panel on the wall popped open.  There was the smell of burning electrics.  Fox grinned.

 

They slipped into the room triumphantly.  It held shelves with various treasurs and the massive door of a vault.  Fox turned to Feitan,

“Can you call Shalnark and Phinks?  I need Tandi,”

That was when the odd feeling hit her.

Fox shook her head like a dog.  There was something strange … another machine?

Fox wasn’t a stupid person but she realised belatedly that she’d done a stupid thing.  She’d walked into a trap.  And brought Feitan with her.

There _was_ a machine in here. In the room or in the walls she didn’t know. But it was different from the one in Viola’s makeshift torture chamber. This one was not only sapping her nen, it was making her feel groggy, almost drunk, like she had her head stuffed with cotton wool.

She steadied herself on the wall looking blearily for Feitan to help him out of there.

Feitan felt it even though he never saw a machine.  It felt familiar. He felt weak, disoriented, he stumbled, almost falling.  Feitan, the strongest of the two of them, knew that he had the best chance of using his abilities.  Swiftly, he produced a knife out of thin air and slashed his own chest diagonally down from one sharp collarbone.

For a moment he raged against the machine, his nen flaring black and red around him, then he succumbed, stumbling to a halt, left arm hanging useless, dripping blood onto the creamy Italian marble tiles.

Fox, who had killed Feitan's torturer under the influence of a similar machine, seemed less affected.  She gripped Feitan by both arms, keeping him from falling.

Suddenly she realised they were not alone. She turned her head slowly.  Viola Ingraham was there with a handful of burly henchmen. Her smile was predatory.

"This particular machine affects different nens different ways," Viola said conversationally, "Did you notice?  Specialists and transmuters most and Emitters and manipulators least of all."  She studied her cuticles with a frown, "No one knows why ..."

"Fug you," Feitan said suddenly, words slurred.  “How … how you find …?”

Viola smiled indulgently, "You darling idiot!  How did I find you all?  How did I know you were robbing my home?”  Her tone changed abruptly, “Theres a tracker in the necklace you Ryodan morons!  The _necklace_!”

“The necklace?”  Fox echoed.  Her mind raced back to the reception and Viola’s drunk ass and the diamond and citrine necklace.

Feitan looked blearily at her, “What … what …?”

“I gave it to Tandi!  She must actually have it _on_ her!   _Shit_!”

“Enough, my itsy bitsy spiders!” Viola sang, “I’m locking you in.  I can get in the vault from my room next door so I won’t have to step over any stinky corpses!”  She laughed, a high fake sound, “Now we …”

Fox was struggling to keep Feitan standing, he stumbled and flung both arms around her for support.

Viola's face fell slowly into a frown.

"Let him go," she said softly, dangerously, "take your hands off of --"

"No!" Fox screamed, "You bitch!"

Viola's hands curled into fists, "You little cunt.  Are you trying to fuck my prize?!  You already fucked my bookeeper!  Are you already fucking _him, too_?!"

"Every single goddamned day!" Fox screamed. “Like rabbits!”

"You little whore!"

And Viola launched herself at The Fox.

For a moment the women seemed evenly matched but Fox who had the advantage of youth was no match for the older woman’s superior height and weight.  Viola was bearing The Fox down when she stepped a bit too close to Feitan.  He swiftly drove a knife into her foot, pinning it to the floor

Viola ingraham screamed.

Severa goons cam running, removing the knife, staving off the blood.  She twisted to glare at Feitan.

"I told them to torture you," Viola said with barely contained fury, "I told them to torture you and kill you.

"I hard ... to kill," Feitan said,

“I don’t know how you got away but you killed one of my best men.”

“Actually that would be me,” Fox said, “I killed one of your best men.”  She smirked at the older woman. “And freed Feitan,”

She left the bit about the blowjob out.

“Shut up, cunt!”

“Yeah if that was one of your best men then you need to hire better men.”

Viola slapped her then, hard, across the face.

Feitan muttered something and tried to get up but the nen cancelling device was hamstringing him.

“Leave ‘er ‘lone,” he managed before losing consciousness.

One of Viola’s men slung one beefy arm around The Fox’s neck and dragged her up into a choke hold.  She dangled there, unable to breathe, head down, blood dripping from her split lip.

“You two can stay here,” Viola said, “I don’t know how long the air will last but, hey, who doesn’t love a bit of suspense?  I’m leaving two men to guard this door so don’t try anything cute.”

The big goon dropped Fox who landed like a sack of wet bones.

The door to the room shut with a click and Fox heard the lock turning from the outside.  She rolled over, staring at the ceiling, catching her breath.

_Well, shit._

Feitan stood painfully, slowly, staggering sideways,  “Fox ... less go … gotta go …Fox …”

Fox stared at him.  The machine was messing with his mind as well as his nen. She crouched in front of the huge safe door. Feitan walked crookedly to her.

“Whar y’ doing?” he asked, swaying on his feet.

“I’m looking at the safe,”

The small thief looked around the room like he’d never seen it before.

“Safe,” he said matter of factly.

“Yes safe, Feitan.  This big thing here.  Why don't you sit down?”

Feitan shuffled closer.

“What day it?”

“Early Sunday morning” Fox said patiently, “Sit down now.  Do you hear me, Fei?”

“You don’, don,’ don’ … have your nen.”

Fox never looked up from the safe. “Folks have been cracking safes without nen for years.”

Abruptly Feitan sat down hard on the floor.

“Ow,”

“Are you ok?  Do you understand me?”

“What day it?”

“Sunday.  Just sit still, OK?  If I’m right we can get the coins and get out of here,” Fox persisted

Feitan stared at her blankly and began rocking, arms around himself.  From then on he just stared at her, rocking and twitching occasionally.

Fox muttered to herself;

“Viola said that her room was next door and that she could get into the vault from there.  That means this safe has two doors, one here and one leading to Viola’s room.  We can get the coins and go through the other door and get away!”

She looked up at Feitan who was not currently playing with a full deck.  He regarded her owlishly.

After several long moments there was a barely perceptible click and The Fox spun the handle of the safe.  It eased open.  

She dug one shoulder under Feitan’s arm, hauling him up.

“Gotta go,” he said almost plaintively.

“I know.  We’re going now!”

“What day it?”


	7. Feitan and The Fox

Ch. 7 - Feitan and The Fox

Fox dabbed at the blood, carefully wiping the small spider’s milky skin.

She was very very careful, patting and wiping oh so gently.  The self inflicted wound on Feitan’s chest was crusty and painful and he flinched as he stood against the wall.

Still he couldn’t help but make a tiny noise of pleasure as Fox swept the sweat and clotted blood out of his wound, letting it bleed afresh before bandaging it.

She leaned into him, frowning and cleaning the long cut.  He leaned his head back, his face hot at how close she was, his breathing ragged.

“Gonna haveta stitch that,” she grunted, taking up a curved needle.

Feitan never flinched as she sewed the gaping wound up.  When she leant in and snipped the thread with her teeth he inhaled sharply at the proximity of her lips to his skin.  His brain cheerfully inserted the memory of those lips around his straining dick.

She was right there.  Right next to his jaw, her mouth only inches from his neck.  He ducked his head minutely and his cheek brushed hers.

She looked up at him almost shyly and he lost all resolve under those golden eyes.

Feitan suddenly grabbed her, and lifting her in one smooth movement he switched their positions and pressed her back onto the wall, more roughly than he intended, and guided her long legs around his hips.

“What you want?” he gasped,

She turned her face away.

He pulled himself against her and caught her chin in his hand, turning her head toward him.  He covered her mouth with his and kissed her deeply.

“What … what you want me do?”  He asked again, rapidly losing what little control he had. “Tell truth, Fox”

“Oh, Feitan …”

He kissed her again, loving her warm wet mouth.

“Tell me,” He whispered, kissing down into her cleavage.

“Oh, Fei!  Fei!  I want you to …” she blushed, “Fuck me. Fuck me, Feitan, please!”

Feitan didn’t need anything else in this world but those words.

He hooked his arms under her legs, lifting.  

He was insanely strong.  Despite her being taller than him and out weighing him, he easily pinned her, both his hands flat on the wall, her long legs over his arms, opening her up for his dick

He slotted himself into her, his fat cock stretching her, and she whined. Feitan growled low in his throat and bit over her neck and shoulder, beginning gingerly to thrust into her.  She squeaked and gasped and Feitan had to use all his willpower not to take her right there, fuck her raw up against the wall.  How dare she, who drove him crazy on jobs, drive him crazy in private?

It didn’t take long before the pleasure was just too much. He’d waited so long for this.

“Ahh, Fox! … Fox!  Hnngh!  Hah!”

He rutted shamelessly into her, reveling in the little cry that escaped her every time he bottomed out.

Her breathing was ragged and her hands gripped his hair, his shoulders, dragging her nails across his back.

“Oh, yes!  Like that!   _ Feitan _ !”

He bent his head, lips to her throat, and closed his eyes for a moment, overcome at the incredible sensation. 

“Fuck … so tight … so good ...”

“Fei …”

The small thief devoured her neck, leaving lovers marks on her fair skin.

“I … I close …”

Fox was as well; she abruptly craned her head back, body going tense,

“Oh Fei … you’re gonna … gonna …”

Feitan growled against her neck,

“Cum for me, Fox …”

“Ahh!  AHH!  FEITAN!”

Her nails dug into his back and Feitan’s fingertips dug into the wall as he redoubled his stroke into her tight warmth.

“Yes!  Yes!  Harder, Fei … ah!”

“I … I …  _ Fox _ !”

The small spider came deep inside her, teeth clenched on the collar of her shirt to keep from biting her soft skin.

For a moment they just stood there, her back pressed to the wall, him pressed to her, both panting.

Finally Feitan let her down, staggering back; he’d had a busy day.  Fox wound her arms around his neck and he kissed her eagerly.  Abruptly he broke off.

“What that?”

“What?”

“Noise …”

The Fox cocked her head.  She could hear it, a rythmic thumping, like something big hitting the wall.  Suddenly she placed it.

She blushed and met Feitan’s gaze.  He grinned wickedly.

“Somebody else get pussy,” he said, kissing along her collarbone, “Or ass …”

“But who?” She squeaked.

Feitan shrugged, unconcerned. He fondled her breast and listed possibilities,

“Danchou, Shal … “

“ _ Oh Phinksy! _ ” a voice squealed,

Feitan's and Fox's gazes met again.

They both began giggling.

  
  


Back at the hotel, while Chrollo, Phinks, and Shal went through the fruits of the heist, Feitan pulled his tunic over his head and yawned, turning to wander back toward the shower.  He was beat.  He grinned to himself at the reason.

Chrollo stopped talking abruptly.  Feitan got several steps away before he noticed the deficit.  He turned curiously.  Was there something wrong with the loot?  If it hadn’t been for Fox they’d have nothing.

The expressions on the faces of his friends were varied to say the least.  Chrollo was frowning, Phinks was red as a beet, and Shalnark was grinning happily.

“What?  What you smile at?”

Chrollo gestured at the mirror over the dresser. Feitan turned his back to it and looked over his shoulder.

His back was littered with scratches.

The little thief went red to the tips of his ears.

“Really, Fei?”

“Phinks fucking too!”

Chrollo’s face could melt steel.

 

Chrollo was pacing a tight pattern; three steps, turn, three steps, turn.

“Do you not appreciate my position here?”

The two Troupe members cowering before him cringed.

“I promise this man - Simon - I promise him I’d get his girls back safe and keep you horny bastards off of them.”

Chrollo paced in sputtering silence for a second,

“And what do I find?!  Two of my Spiders have fucked the two pente girls!  _ Fucked!  Both  _ of them!”

Phinks and Feitan assiduously studied the floor.

“Phinks!  My god!  You know better!”  

Three steps, turn. 

“And during the middle of a heist?!  Can’t you keep it in your pants for the time it takes to steal something?  Did you even use protection?!”

By the look on the tall blonde man’s face everyone knew he hadn’t.

“And you, Feitan …” 

Chrollo sighed gustily.  The little man shrank in on himself.

“She nice,” The small thief insisted, “And smart, and pretty …”

“I know all that,” Chrollo snapped, “I’d like to have hit that myself!”

Feitan scowled at the floor.  That was not news he wanted to hear.

“But I promised,” Chrollo reiterated.

Feitan remained obstinately silent.

There was an abrupt tap on the door.  The spiders froze but the door eased open.

It was Simon.

“Chrollo …”

Chrollo drew himself up, ready to face his due.

Simon extended his hand.  Chrollo took it without thinking.  They shook hands.

“Good heist, eh?”  Simon asked gruffly.

Chrollo nodded blankly.

“Thank you for takin’ care o’ my girls.”

Simon turned to leave and when he pulled the door wide Tandi and Fox stood there.  Tandi chewed gum and grinned; Fox, a dusting of pink across her nose, smiled shyly.  Both gave little waves at their Ryodan as the door shut.

Chrollo looked around at Fei and Phinks, opened his mouth, thought better of it, closed it, and walked out the door.  The two spiders, with smiles on their faces, trailed behind him.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The scene where Feitan was affected by the nen machine (the second time) was based on my husband, who has type 1 diabetes. This is how he acts when he is having a low blood sugar (including repeatedly asking what day it is.)


End file.
